if you make a sound
by heartsans
Summary: Loki, thanks to his brother's pleading, is treated kindly in Asgard, despite chains and gag. Silent and impassive, Thor tends to him in hopes of a response. slash


_If you make a sound_

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They had not removed his restraints since his return, the gag forcing Loki's voice to be reduced to muffles and unintelligible pleas. For the most part, his noises proved to be short lived, greeting Thor with silence and occasional glares. Soon even those stopped, his face impassive and blank like an ocean without waves, eyes betraying nothing. Thor's insistent pleading to his father miraculously granted Loki some mercy, bathed and clothed and kept in a room with a soft bed.

The chains effectively stifled his magic, but what unsettled Thor the most was his brother's complete silence as he ate food with trembling hands, his gaze towards him unfaltering, but eerily devoid of emotion. Anything would have been preferable to this, he thought, missing his brother's lies and taunts, the body that he tended to a husk without fear nor spite.

The first day, after a bath and a meal, Thor knelt to meet his brother's eyes from his seated position in the bed, cradling his cheek and tangling his fingers in the now wayward strands of hair.

"I love you," he whispered, and Loki gave no response. Not to the kiss planted on his forehead, nor the thumb tracing circles on his cheek.

The second day, Thor brought an armful of books and presented them to his brother, who gave them a fleeting glance before crawling to the safety of pristine white blankets. Always one to be brash, Thor pulled down the blanket over Loki's face, his wish to hide like the actions of an errant child.

"Loki, please, I begged them to be kind to you. Are these quarters not preferable to a cell? Are you not satisfied?"

Hands hovering over the blankets to attempt to cover himself once more, Loki stopped, arms resting at his sides, defeated.

"I will do anything. Why do you reject my love? My mercy? Is this not enough?"

In response, Loki shut his eyes, not meeting the desperate blue eyes of his brother. Thor let out an exasperated groan, and brushed ink black locks away from the man's forehead.

On the third and fourth day, Thor attempted some semblance of distance, but could not restrain himself from touches; from embraces that Loki stiffened into, shackles clinking together. His brother's body slimmed even further from refusing to eat until he could swear he was paper thin and easy to crumple.

Thor begged. Thor held his hands as his fingers failed to curl into his own. Thor kissed the back of his palms, and left the room only in late hours, desperate for his brother's reply.

On the fifth day, Thor found Loki seated on the edge of the bed, finally reading one of the books provided for him- a historical account of Asgard's wars. Approaching his brother, his hands reached for the tome; Loki gave no resistance as it was taken away.

Thor held his hands once more, kneeling before him like one would a servant.

His voice left him like a butterfly attempting to speak.

"I am to be your king, yet I kneel before you. Does this mean nothing?"

For the first time in days, Loki's brows furrowed in recognition, and Thor took hold of his achingly slim waist, fingers snaking under his shirt as though holding something fragile, something treasured. His hands ghosted over emaciated ribs, over his nipples, Loki's gasp a muffled spark- a small, but evident response.

"Let me," Thor said, and Loki nodded slowly, his brother pulled down the waistband of his pants, taking hold of his half erection and pumping it with hesitance, the member growing under his touch.

Loki's hands shook like leaves, chains limiting their movements. Digits resting with uncertainty on Thor's head, his brother engulfed the tip of his cock in his mouth, inexperience dictating his motions as slow and cautious. Loki did not thrust into his mouth, frozen in his spot, though his grip grew more entangled in his brother's hair. Thor, encouraged by this simple act, quickened his motions, rewarded by a muted groan of pleasure.

Was this restraint? Was this sorrow? Thor's eyes met his brother's, to find that they watered with tears. Squeezing his brother's hand as he continued his ministrations, he felt the acknowledgment of his fingers being encircled in turn. Loki's sounds were small, almost imperceptible, but punctuated the otherwise empty room with its ache.

Tasting the hint of precum, Thor pushed all the way to the hilt and back in a maddening pace, Loki's eyelashes closing like a white flag, his orgasm quiet and trembling.

Thor pulled away, adjusting the pants to its original place, holding his brother's hand and motioning him to rise. Surprisingly, he followed, body for once not growing rigid in Thor's embrace. He relaxed in his hold, Thor feeling the wet tears dotting his shirt.

"I love you, brother," he repeated, and Loki nodded in response.

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_Author here. I'm not deluded enough to think submissive Loki is ever canon (though forgiving Thor certainly is), but it's fun to write. Hope you enjoyed._


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